


What Price?

by InchByInch



Category: Homeland
Genre: Spoilers for Episode S6.01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9193250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InchByInch/pseuds/InchByInch
Summary: Set in an AU after Ep 6.01 where nothing happens other than Quinn slowly recovers as he and Carrie begin to rebuild their relationship.  Written in response to a LiveJournal conversation about the negative and positive effect that motherhood can have on personal growth and career.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cheesecake_97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesecake_97/gifts), [Laure001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laure001/gifts).



Even though it has been a while since she started leaving the basement door unlocked, Quinn still knocks. Usually. This morning when she answers, she’s fuming. Fortunately, not at him. 

“Small potatoes! What the hell gives him the right? Just because he has more money than God, he looks down on my efforts as puny.”

Quinn frowns and waits for her to explain as she turns and heads into the kitchen. He tries not to think how adorable she looks in her PJ’s and robe with her ponytail bouncing.

“Otto. Last time he was here. He basically called my work unimportant just because I don’t have millions of dollars to change millions of lives. Condescending asshole.”

Months ago? Why was she so upset this morning?

“Hmmph.” He responds. Slowly measures out the coffee and pours it into the machine. Only spills a little.

“Otto’s worse than Saul, who, by the way, called me selfish and stupid just because I don’t want to help him change the paradigm for how the CIA uses intel.”

“You talked to Saul?”

“Months ago. In Berlin. Right after…  
I mean, yesterday, I translated an eviction notice for the family of the guy who tried to blow up the Brooklyn Bridge with a firecracker. I may not be making a difference on a global scale, but I made a difference to that family. There are not enough Arabic-speaking social workers in New York.”

“Yeah.”

“You could help me. Using your language skills could really help people.”

Was she off her meds? He was still struggling for vocabulary in English and he sounded like an idiot. And truthfully, his accents always sucked, especially in German. How the hell did she think his speech impediment would translate into foreign languages?

“We really need help with Syrian refugees who speak Arabic.”

“Listen to me. What the fuck are you thinking?”

“You need a sense of purpose. You could translate English communications into written Arabic. Writing in a foreign language requires a lot of intelligence and effort – especially if the writer includes idioms, slang, and humor. People who do that are so impressive and brave. You could do it. I think it would really help you to get better if you felt you had a mission again.”

No shit. Him and every goddamn ex-soldier in that goddamned VA hospital. Hell, even Bibi and Qasim were really just looking for a sense of belonging and purpose.

“I have a mission.”

“Making Frannie lunch, taking her to the park, and practicing tying your shoes together is not enough.

“Maybe it’s not enough for you.”

“It’s not enough for you! Quinn, there are thousands of residents of Berlin who are alive today because of the work you did, turning Quasim. You still have talents! Your efforts shouldn’t be taken up by playing with a 4-year old.”

“Those people are alive ‘cause of you, Carrie. You were there with Quasim at the end. Maybe Otto and Saul are right. You could be using your talent and effort to do more than take care of me, of Frannie, and of whoever is unlucky enough to cross the FBI each week. Your turn to be frustrated.”

He glares at her after this long speech and reflects that talking is sometimes easier when he is really worked up.

“Fuck you, Quinn! Really, just fuck you.”

She stomps up the stairs without any coffee. 

A tactical mistake, he thinks. She will need caffeine, and the coffee is beginning to brew, sending out an aroma that will bring her back. Eventually. Carrie’s ability to take a quick break to cope with her anger is new. Maybe something she learned from Jonas or maybe from being a mom. Or maybe she’s just matured, which would mean there is hope for him as well. 

He waits. Listens to her storm around getting ready. No noise from Frannie yet.

Pretty soon, dressed and looking hot, she sulks back into the kitchen. 

“Probably made a difference to that family. That you translated their eviction notice,” he offers.

“The family will get evicted anyway. Otto’s funding isn’t limitless. There isn’t enough support for refugees in this country, much less immigrants with family members in jail on terrorism charges.”

“Still, you make a difference.” What he can’t say is that she makes a difference to him. He still treats her like shit most of the time just because it makes him feel like shit thinking about what she should be doing with her life -- other than caring for him.

Instead, he carefully hands her a mug of coffee.

“It was both of us,” she says.

“What?”

“Both of us, who saved the people in Berlin. Even separated, and with everything that happened, we were still a fucking effective team. Everyone would have been killed if it had been up to either one of us alone.”

“That’d have sucked,” he replies. Stares at her over coffee and he knows she isn’t going to change the paradigm at the CIA, or even influence US policy in the Middle East. He isn’t either. Maybe because she’s changed, maybe because he is so damaged, maybe because of Frannie. 

“Yeah,” she agrees. 

“You can’t move forward because I’m holding you back, but Carrie, you were right, I am getting better. It’s enough for now, being there for Frannie, for myself. Maybe for you. That’s what we’ve got…for now.”


End file.
